Ask Artur for confirmation,
but you know that I am no liar.
There was little to no explanation,
just six words, plain as day, in this wire:
Now, Kraków's magician, Ben Ali,
who knows what he's saying, said thus:
'It's quite easy to enchant a cabbie
and there's no need to kick up a fuss.
Just show him a magical brooch
to enchant him for better or worse,
and the cab along with him to get a neat package,
but it surely won't work on a horse'.
I decided to ring him in exasperation:
'Are you there, mister Ali? Ben Ali?', I croak.
'Can a horse be enchanted?' 'Most certainly not.
It must be some juvenile joke.'
'T was 2 after midnight, I shivered with chill,
and the postman stood like a rock,
when my hair started growing with such an enthusiasm,
it soon reached my grandfather's clock.
I felt really unwell in my heart and my head.
I looked out the window and saw through the drapes
the roofs of Kraków, like “secundus joannem”,
all piled in silvery shapes,
with stars and leaves below
as big and small as they get.
Perhaps I did really hire that cab
and forgot, as I sometimes forget?
Perhaps I wished to get out of this city,
a man sometimes longs for a trip.
A dream gave the cabbie long whiskers to match,
as he waited and soon fell asleep.
And later somebody enchanted poor cabbie:
the night, the wind and Ben Ali.
From Wenecja Street to the Cloth Hall
I was led by Artur and Tadek.
'T wasn't simple at all with the townhouses 'round
and the night – green and mad as a hatter.
Because you have to, Ladies and Gents, go through the whole night-time Kraków.
Allegro ma non troppo
We stopped at Sub Aethiopibus
(for this house I would part with my head),
when suddenly – look, in front of the Cloth Hall,
just like the wire said:
The light from St. Mary's tower snows,
and the horse – just imagine! – had an authentic nose.